


Ups and Downs

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7582726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unusual view of the ups and downs of life at NCIS. </p><p>Not to be taken seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ups and Downs

“You’re crazy!  What sort of muddleheaded idiot are you?  What made you think …”

There was a bang and the lights dimmed and shocking me out of my meditative state.  What was going on?  I peered through the gloom and spotted two men standing nose to nose and glaring at each other.

I sometimes wonder what I would have done if I’d known that this was just the start of a sorry story.  This was not what I’d dreamed of when I was first starting out.

NCISNCIS

We all have hopes and aspirations.  We all want to do well, make a contribution and perhaps, most of all, we want to be appreciated.  Huh!

When we were growing up, being _crafted_ if you will, we used to talk among ourselves about where we would go, what we would do, what our role would be.  Of course, we had no choice but we could all dream.  We heard stories – some good, some bad and some simply terrifying but all we could do was wait. 

Some dreamt of a life in a luxury apartment block.  Others yearned for a life in the spotlight.  Me, I didn’t know what I wanted but I guess part of me wanted to be useful.  So, when our assignments came through I was excited.  Admittedly, I’d never heard of NCIS but I quickly found out that it was a federal agency and that the letters stood for Navy Criminal Investigative Service.  I began to think my dreams would come true.  And then I found out that I would be based at the headquarters in Washington, on the banks of the Anacostia.  If an elevator could burst with pride … well, I would have.

I was surprised that I was so busy when I got installed.  My building wasn’t very tall but the occupants seemed to like using me.  Occasionally traffic would slow down when there was publicity about the benefits of ‘using the stairs’ – usually around New Year’s when I noticed that people were carrying more gym gear than usual.  It didn’t usually last long, resolutions faded and I welcomed people back and once again got used to eavesdropping on snatches of conversation.  It was surprising how much I learned about my clientele from those snippets of talk … or in some cases from their lack of talk!

Let me tell you about one such person, one who I learned about mostly from what he _didn’t_ say.  It wasn’t long after I’d been installed that a murmur began to go round the building that someone special was returning from an assignment in Europe.  I was still young and naïve and hadn’t acquired the ‘people reading’ skills I have today so I found it difficult to assess whether the occupants of the building were looking forward to his return or dreading it.

I guessed who it was the moment he stepped into the elevator.  Of course, my senses are more attuned to beauty in machinery but I have learned to appreciate the human form and this was a human form I could well appreciate.  Tall with an upright military bearing, silvering hair and piercing blue eyes which had a suggestion of a twinkle in them.  He stabbed the button for the required floor with authority.  I should have taken warning.

Agent Jethro was not someone I learned about from listening to him speaking.  He was more inclined to grunt in response to a greeting or lift a coffee cup in acknowledgement.  I did once hear him break his silence when someone proudly produced a wooden guinea pig hutch he had made.  I was surprised the cage didn’t spontaneously combust at his words!

If I didn’t learn about Agent Jethro from what _he_ said, I did learn things from listening to what other people said.  It seemed to me that the elevator was a favoured place for these conversations as he was suspected to have superhuman hearing as well as superior stealth skills which enabled him to sneak up on unsuspecting gossips.  The elevator was seen as a safe place to talk so I learned that he was both well respected and feared; uncompromising and dedicated; a loner and possibly lonely; stoic yet passionate; demanding and dictatorial … the list of attributes went on.  People admired what he did but, on the whole, were relieved not to be on his team.

I guess, as befits someone who was one of a kind, the people on his team were also ‘one of a kind’.  Agent Tony was also a handsome example of humanity.  Unlike Agent Jethro, he was often smiling or laughing but I soon learned that he was always on the lookout for information as he was insatiably curious.  I quickly decided that although I seemed to know a lot about his dating habits, his movie watching and his self-proclaimed superior detective instincts I didn’t know much about what actually went on behind his attractive façade.  I learned once that he had been on a long-term undercover mission in a previous job; sometimes I wondered if he had ever left it.

Then there was Agent Kate, also extremely attractive.  Surely, Agent Jethro didn’t select his team based on criteria of physical beauty?  Or did he?  No matter.  Agent Kate was opinionated and forceful, determined and dedicated … and gone too soon.

Agent Tim was interesting too.  There is a weight limit for elevators.  I could usually assess quite quickly whether or not I would be over my tolerance but Agent Tim confused me because his weight went up and down like … well, like an elevator, I suppose!  In the early days I learned a lot about his academic achievements but little about his childhood.  He looked like someone who had been cherished throughout his life but, eventually, it came out that perhaps his early years had been less than idyllic.  Agent Tim was renowned throughout the building for his technical skills – I was sometimes anxious that he would use them to reprogram me in some way.

And you want to know about Agent, or should I say Officer/Agent Ziva?  Lovely, of course.  That seems to be the pattern.  But difficult to know.  Which also seems to be the pattern.  In her way, as reluctant as Agents Jethro and Tony to reveal anything real about herself.  Someone else who was always undercover?

You may be surprised to know that while elevators don’t swear an oath – that would be absurd – we do have a code of honour which includes a measure of confidentiality.  That’s a longwinded way of me assuring you that I won’t divulge what happened when Agent Tony and Officer/Agent Ziva were trapped in me when the building was attacked.  Not that I really want to remember what that was like.  And part of me was glad that they were with me during the ordeal.  But no, I’m not telling you anything more than that.

It occurs to me, however, that Officer/Agent Ziva attracted accidents in me.  There was the time she and Agent Tim were trapped in me overnight during a power cut.  It was, of course, dark because the power was out but their differing reactions to their plight were revealing.  On the whole, I thought that Officer/Agent Ziva had coped better … until she smashed Agent Tim’s watch in a fit of pique.  Agent Tim was wise enough to show forbearance.  I can’t imagine what might have happened in a confined space if they had come to blows.

And no, I’m not going to reveal what happened another time when a suspect in her custody annoyed her.  Like I said, entering an elevator with Officer/Agent Ziva was potentially hazardous!

Doctor Ducky was always a considerate passenger when he rode me.  Sometimes I wished that the NCIS building had more floors so the journeys would be longer.  Perhaps then I would have heard the end of some of his stories, assuming they had an end.

Labby Abby was not a frequent passenger.  I think she was too impatient to be confined in me.  She wanted always to be on the move and, I guess, in control.  There was the memorable time when she forsook her lab and took up residence in me.  I say memorable because she brought with her an assortment of odd oils and scents in addition to the normal tang of gunpowder which clung to her.  Memorable also because it was from her that I learned the statistics of how safe elevator travel is.  That warmed my heart, we take pride in our work, you know.  I was glad, however, when she retreated to her lab: I prefer the clean antiseptic smells provided by Harry the janitor.  I like (and respect) all of the agents but the maintenance and janitorial workers are my favourites!

Agent Ellie was a late arrival.  Blonde – which broke a pattern, but beautiful which didn’t.  Out of all the agents she was probably the one who also appreciated the work of the cleaners; when she first arrived she spent most of her time sitting on the floor so they must have been clean.  She didn’t often sit on my floor, I guess that, although I’m not the fastest of elevators, she’d have no sooner sat down than it would be time to get up again.

I hope you can see that I serve an eclectic and interesting group of people.  Never a dull moment.  Well, of course there are but we elevators develop the ability to drop into a meditative state when necessary – as I’ve already mentioned.  On the whole I feel happy and fulfilled in my job but there is a fly in the ointment or, almost literally, a wrench in the works.

Let me take you back to the beginning of my story and that confrontation.  You may have guessed that one of the combatants standing nose to nose was Agent Jethro.  And what he had just done was to throw the emergency switch obliging me to screech to a halt so that he could have a shouting match with FBI Agent Tobias.  My first thought was that one of them was ill although I couldn’t understand how bringing me to a stop would help matters but, at that time, I had no experience of being shut off.  The redness of their faces did suggest a sudden and unwanted increase in their blood pressure but this seemed to be a result of fury rather than illness.  They continued to glare at one another until Agent Jethro seemed to feel that he had made his point and threw the switch again setting me back in motion.

I can’t deny that I was shaken by this experience and for several days felt apprehensive if someone strayed too close to the stop switch.  Some weeks passed without any new incident and I relaxed once more as I decided it had been a one-off incident caused by the incursion of an FBI agent into NCIS territory.  Until it happened again.  Agent Jethro decided to use his ‘conference room’ as a base for reaming out Agent Tony for flirting with a witness.  And then for carpeting Agent Tim for contaminating a crime scene when he barfed over it.  For some reason he never did it to Agent Kate; I suspect she would have reported him to Delores Bromstead for sexual harassment.

I had to resign myself to this misuse.  There was another occasion when he confined Agent Tim to me for some hours while he considered how best to punish an infraction involving his sister.  Don’t get me wrong, I like Agent Tim but I’m not accustomed to having the same passenger for so long and his pacing up and down was disturbing.

It began to be an office joke that Agent Jethro regarded me, and every other elevator in the building, as his personal conference room.  And the virus began to spread when nearly every member of his team at various times decided to follow their leader’s finger and throw my switch.  Fortunately, they didn’t do it as often as Agent Jethro but it was enough to disturb me even more.

I was raised in the old school, however, so I believed that the passenger is always right.  Where the passenger wants to go, the passenger shall go.  Even if that turns out to be between floors.  And there is, of course, a logic to this principle.  I don’t want to be responsible for deciding where someone wants to go.  There are times when I can tell my passenger doesn’t really want to ascend to the floor where the Director is waiting to deliver some reprimand or when I know that someone does not really want to go to Autopsy to identify a loved one.  But they have to go.  And I have to let them.  In the same way I have to take agents downstairs so they can leave the building on some dangerous mission although I worry for them when they are gone. 

But, as I say, I’m trained to do my passengers’ wishes and, for a long time, I endured the frequent screeches to a halt and stuck to the Elevator Ethos of Endurance.  The three Es are important to us.  They make us what we are.  But eventually things came to a head.

The MCRT had a run of difficult cases, many of them involving other agencies and, inevitably, this meant I became _a conference room_ even more frequently than usual. 

Then the day of my annual overhaul arrived.  It’s a day I enjoy.  I look upon it in the same way as you might enjoy a visit to a masseuse or beautician, as Agent Tim looks forward to his surreptitious manicures or as Agent Tony looks forward to having his hair cut.  I’ve never worked out what the equivalent might be for Agent Jethro.  Anyway, I look forward to the visits of Elevator Engineer Eddie.  He normally sings (tunelessly, I fear) as he examines my machinery, my gears, my cables and the electrics but this time he tsked and tutted the whole time.  At the end, he patted my control panel and sighed.

A few minutes later the building manager and Director Leon were gathered inside me.

“I don’t understand it, Director,” said Eddie, “the elevator is showing far more sign of wear than it should at its age.”

The building manager and the Director exchanged knowing glances.  I could see they suspected why I might be showing premature signs of age.

“What do you recommend?” asked Director Leon.

“Nothing at the moment,” said Eddie, “I’ve given everything a good overhaul.  It’s all within safety tolerances so you don’t need to worry but if the degrading continues at this rate you’ll be looking at a complete replacement in two years.”

“We haven’t budgeted for that,” said the building manager.

“You’ll be looking at tens of thousands of dollars,” said Eddie gloomily.  “And scrapping a fine piece of machinery.”

Obviously, I haven’t got a heart or a bloodstream but something within me ran cold at these words.  Scrapped!  So soon!

“Keep me apprised,” said the Director curtly.  He looked as if he was about to press the button for his floor but decided not to.  I appreciated his restraint.  I needed a break from work and time to reflect.

It went against the Elevator Ethos of Lift Loyalty (we have strong connections with the UK fraternity) but I decided I had to act.   For my wellbeing, and the wellbeing of NCIS elevators to come, I had to retrain Agent Jethro.  I began the next day.

Agent Jethro arrived at the same time as Agent Tony that morning and they got into me together.

“Morning, Boss,” said Agent Tony.

“Huh,” replied Agent Jethro.

“That’s a nice polo shirt, you’re wearing, Boss,” offered Tony.

That got a response, “it’s the same as all my shirts, DiNozzo.”

“Oh.  Yes, I guess it is.  It’s … it’s well-ironed.  Looks smart.  Good one, Boss.”

Agent Jethro looked at his agent incredulously but was saved from having to reply by my delivering them both quietly and smoothly to their floor.  Labby Abby summoned Gibbs a few minutes later and he got into me.  On his own.  He pressed the button for her floor.  I didn’t move.  He pressed it again and again.  Harder each time.  It went against my Code for Courteous Compliance with Clients but I stayed where I was.

“DiNozzo!” he roared.

“Boss?” said Agent Tony as he scurried over.

“Elevator’s not working.  Get on to Maintenance!”

“It was working this morning,” said Agent Tony in a puzzled voice, “but you know that.  Sorry, Boss.  I mean, not sorry.”  He got in and pressed the button to Labby Abby’s floor. 

I slid the doors closed smoothly and began my descent.

“It’s working now,” said Agent Tony a little unnecessarily.  He instinctively followed Agent Jethro into the lab.

I felt bad about that afterwards.  I didn’t realise it was his birthday and Labby Abby had called Agent Jethro down to finalise arrangements for his birthday surprise.  Which was ruined.  I hardened what passed for my heart; there were more important things at stake than festivities.  This was life or death – mine.

I allowed the pattern to continue.  I took pleasure in being my normal efficient self all day except for two occasions when Agent Jethro was the only passenger.  The first time I only started moving after he’d pressed the buttons for all the floors: that was surprisingly satisfying as it meant that he stopped at every floor before reaching his destination in the basement.  The second time I moved only after he’d pressed the button three times and then delivered him to the wrong floor.

The next morning it was Agent Tim who travelled up with Agent Jethro.

“Morning, Boss,” he said cheerfully.

“Humph,” came the reply.

“That coffee you got in your mug?” he asked.  The Boss stare was delivered once more.  “Sorry, Boss.  Of course, it’s coffee.  Not likely that you’d have tea.  You’re not Ducky after all.  Um, we’re here.  But you know that.  Right, I’m getting to work now.”

Later that morning Agent Jethro ventured into me to go on a coffee run.  He hesitated momentarily before pressing a button but then did so with his customary power.  I obeyed instantly.  As I did when he returned with his beverage.  I carried him smoothly to the squad room floor and opened the doors … and snapped them shut again just as he was about to step through.  Some of the coffee spilt on to my clean floor but fortunately most of it went down the polo shirt.

I was out of action for some of that day while Elevator Eddie ran an impromptu diagnostic which I passed with flying colours.  Although elevators are discouraged from flying. 

I behaved perfectly for a couple of hours after that.  Indeed, I noticed that Agent Jethro seemed to be avoiding me, he used the stairs a lot.  Towards the early evening, however, he had an elderly visitor who he then escorted down to the lobby … by elevator.  I was resolved to avoid collateral damage so delivered both passengers to the lobby without incident.  I sensed a hesitation from Agent Jethro as he stood before my doors waiting to ascend once more but he decided to risk it.  When I followed all his commands and brought him to his destination he gave me an assessing look which suggested to me that he thought he had the upper hand.

Agent Jethro was the last to leave that night.  I resisted the temptation to purr as he entered me.  I closed my doors gently and began the journey to the garage.  I ground to a halt after two and a half floors.  My passenger hit the alarm button, without effect.  He started shouting; I could do nothing about that but I didn’t think the noise would travel far.  The sound of his shouting was annoying, however, so I decided to let my motor hum a little.  And occasionally, during the long night, I let the cables creak.  I find that has a good effect.

Unsurprisingly, I was out of action again the next morning after Agent Jethro had been released.  Elevator Eddie was earning a lot of commission out of my misdeeds.  I behaved impeccably for several days and began to see Agent Jethro using me once more.  I waited until he was the sole passenger and allowed my motor to grumble a little.  Agent Jethro narrowed his eyes and took hold of the passenger rail but I didn’t do anything else.

I kept up the pattern.  Whenever Agent Jethro was alone in me I would let the motor make a noise.  In fact, the noise increased a little each time.

“I think the elevator needs looking at again,” I heard Agent Jethro tell his team.

“Boss?” said Agent Tony, “why?  Nothing’s happened again, has it?”

“That weird noise,” said Agent Jethro.

“What weird noise?” asked Agent Tim.

“You must have heard it.  Grind, grind, grind when it goes up.  Screech, screech, screech when it goes down,” said Agent Jethro.

I was pleased that he’d noticed the difference.  How strange that someone so perceptive about machinery should be so uncaring about how he used it.

“I haven’t noticed anything,” said Agent Ellie.

“Nor me,” said Agent Tim.

“You must have,” insisted Agent Jethro.

“Perhaps you’re imagining …” began Agent Tony weakly before trailing off, “no, of course you’re not, Boss.”

“Going for coffee,” announced Agent Jethro.  He stalked towards me but, at the last moment, veered towards the stairs instead.

“Poor Gibbs,” said Agent Ellie.

“The cardio exercise will be good for him,” said Agent Tim kindly, “I mean, not using the elevator.”

“Perhaps it’s _haunted_ ,” said Agent Tony hopefully.

“What’s haunted?” asked Agent Tim.

“The elevator,” said Agent Tony.  “It could be like the elevator in _Willie Wonka_ …”

“That’s not haunted,” objected Agent Ellie.

Agent Tony waved his hand dismissively, “it was scary!  And then there’s the movie _Elevator,”_

“Imaginative title,” said Agent Tim, “what’s it about?”

“An elevator,” said Agent Tony, “Nine strangers trapped in an elevator.  With a bomb.”

“Of course,” said Agent Tim.

“Or then there’s …” began Agent Tony before being interrupted by the return of Agent Jethro.  “Hey, Boss.  We were just talking about elevators.  You know, and your problem … no, I don’t mean problem, I mean challenge.  Yes, that’s the word.  Your _challenge_ with the old elevator.”

“Shut it, DiNozzo,” said Agent Jethro abruptly, “the rest of you, get back to work.  Crime doesn’t take a break when you do.”

“Yes, Boss.  On it, Boss.  Working, Boss,” came the variety of responses.

“And I don’t have a challenge.  Or a problem,” continued Agent Jethro, “as it turns out, Ducky says I should use the stairs as much as possible.  Better for my knees.  Good to keep them active.”

“Yes, Boss.  Good idea, Boss.  Sounds good, Boss,” they replied.

“Wouldn’t do any of you any harm to use the stairs,” said Agent Jethro, “doesn’t pay to rely on machinery.”

“Yes, Boss.  No, Boss.  Absolutely, Boss.”

I sighed a sigh of relief.  I realised I’d won.

It wasn’t a complete victory.  Agent Jethro didn’t completely change his behaviour but he was warier about getting in me and even more cautious about using me as a conference room.  I occasionally gave a small grumble when he was travelling alone in me and usually that was enough. 

I fear that may be about to change.

I mentioned before about the things that duty requires us to do.  I had one of those a few weeks ago when I had to open my doors to let Agent Tony out for the last time.  I wanted to keep him so much, not least because he had taken to talking about all the movies that featured elevator scenes and I wanted to learn more.  Duty dictated, however, that I had to let him go although I couldn’t help but allow a whine as the doors opened for him for the final time.

Agent Jethro has been even more dour than usual recently.  Perhaps he misses Agent Tony more than he expected.  Perhaps it’s the new agents he’s had to ‘train’ to his way of thinking.  Whatever the reason, he has been using me as a conference room more frequently than usual.  My annual service is due in a few days and I can’t risk another bad report.  I fear that Agent Jethro is in for a trying time.

Oh, well, it’s part of the ups and downs of life as a Federal Agent.  And yes, that’s an elevator joke.  We do have a sense of humour, you know.  As well as a sense of duty.  And excellent survival skills.  Your elevator is your friend; make sure you remember that.  Who knows what might happen if you don’t?

 

**Author's Note:**

> In the UK we call elevators ‘lifts’ which is why there is an ‘Elevator Ethos of Lift Loyalty’. 
> 
> I don’t know what else to say except I’d sometimes wondered what the elevator makes of being used and abused by the MCRT!
> 
> I don’t own the human characters … not sure whether or not I own the elevator and I wasn't sure whether to include an 'original character' in the character list!


End file.
